


Moiraine, Alone

by Quietly_Obscene



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Aes Sedai and Warder, Black Ajah, Blue Ajah, F/F, F/M, Lust, Sadness, Sex, Sexual Frustration, Spoilers, pleasure - Freeform, pre-Wheel of Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietly_Obscene/pseuds/Quietly_Obscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moiraine Sedai is travelling with her Warder, Lan, to find the male child who will grow up to be the Dragon Reborn. It has been a year since events in A New Spring, and Moiraine is missing Suian and her life at the White Tower. She is also feeling frustrated, with both her search for the boy and her carnal needs...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moiraine, Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place between A New Spring and the first book in the Wheel of Time series, Eye of the World. There are minimal spoilers, and sex, both in practice and reference, though none of it is explicit. If you can think of a better title, please feel free to comment. Or just comment anyway because you like it and think Moiraine and Lan is a good pairing. Note that they are not OTP for me, but I like playing with their relationship.

_“She was not a pretty little porcelain doll; she was a beautiful little porcelain doll. On the outside, anyway. Inside, where it counted, was another matter.” _  
- _Siuan Sanche _, New Spring____

____ _ _

______ _ _

Moiraine was lonely. Not _alone _, precisely… no, never that; Lan was always skulking in the back of her mind somewhere, a condensed pocket of emotions that she was constantly aware of. She could sense him in the room adjoining hers, could feel his frustration as a reflection of her own. If she had learned anything from the past year on the road, it was that Lan’s once-foreign mannerisms had the tendency to echo her own moods.__

Moiraine supposed that this was the nature of the warder bond. She felt the implacable king of long-dead Malkier pacing about his room, moving through blade forms to alleviate the tedium, just as she herself was currently staring into the tall mirror provided by the enthusiastic innkeeper. 

The plump man had vehemently insisted on her taking his wife’s crudely gilded mirror. He had even gone so far as to place a clock in her room, a true luxury for a small inn with little traffic during the winter months. Only the best for a weary Aes Sedai and her warder. Usually, such proud Andorans were loath to help Aes Sedai so far from Caemlyn, but this man had admitted to having a close relative at the White Tower. He was certainly familiar enough to recognize her ageless face on sight.

She studied her own face in the mirror. The obvious roughness of the craftsmanship had left imperfections, which warped the surface and cast a bizarre reflection. Moiraine knew what she _should _look like well enough, but the face in the mirror was not Moiraine Damodred. It was the face of Moiraine Sedai, whose face was not yet ageless, but had a timeless quality to it. The change was so gradual that she would not have noticed it from day to day, but few people from her old life would have recognized her on first sight.__

She idly wondered if Suian would recognize her now. It had been two years since she had been back to the Tower, and at least a year since Moiraine’s last encounter with her fellow Blue. _A year since her encounter with the Black Ajah. _  
Moiraine shivered and banished the thought from her mind. She had spent enough sleepless nights worrying over the very real threat of the Black sisters and how much they knew of her mission and the Dragon Reborn. She resolved to cross that bridge when she came to it. _Or burn it. _With fireballs.____

Turning from her distorted image, she sat down on the large down bed, which, from the look of it, could have probably fit a whole family of farmers. It brought to mind her days as the daughter of a Cairhienan noble, a part of her life she had rarely thought about since the death of her uncle nearly three years back. And, strangely, it made her think of those fugitive nights in the Tower spent wrapped up in bed with Suian. The cots in the Accepted quarters were hardly much larger than the tiny benches passing for Novice beds, and just as hard and unforgiving the morning after.

_The morning after. _Moiraine smiled to herself, harkening back to those long, late night talks with Suian, which would inevitably end with laughter and tickling fingers on exposed skin. Which in turn would subside to kisses and sweet words. They would awake with limbs intertwined, Suian’s hot breath on her face. There would be more tickling, and kisses, and then one would have to help the other back into her respective dress. She had never felt more beautiful than when Suian would be at her shoulders, pulling the dress together, complementing Moraine’s skin or lips or breasts. _Or…other things. _Nobody made her feel more wanted, or more loved than Suian.  
Her body warmed as she recalled those feelings, a tingling sensation spreading across her skin as if she had drunk an entire bottle of wine, growing and building between her legs. ____

Yes, she missed Suian terribly. 

The door creaked open slightly and spilled faint candlelight into the room from the hallway, causing shadows to leap up across the floor. Startled, Moiraine opened herself to _Saidar _and started weaving, preparing to bind the intruder with a flow of air.__

It was Lan, impossibly slipping through the door without a sound.

She leapt to her feet, surprised, accidently yanking her robe open across her chest in the process. Face heating, she quickly wrapped it back in place. 

_Blood and Ashes, Moiraine, stop acting like a Light-blinded fool. He is grown man twice your age, you are no longer a blushing girl in Novice white. ___

“May I help you, Lan?” She asked as imperiously as she could muster, though it came out far less steady than she had intended. Though she did not like to admit it, Moiraine was far less _attuned _to the bond than she supposed she should have been. Thoughts of Suian in bed must have completely clouded her thoughts.__

_Fool _, she scolded herself, _you have more important things to worry about than your womanly needs.___

She turned her attention back to her warder. “Lan?” He remained silent, his gaze visibly running up and down her body. “Lan?”

As a newly minted Aes Sedai, before she had bonded her first warder, she had expected the relationship to feel a good deal less…intimate. She could at all times sense his humor (or usual lack thereof), his whims (of which, admittedly, he had little), his misgivings (of which he had many), his deep-seated grief and his need for vengeance. What she felt coming from him at that moment was an emotion she had never before felt in him. Could it be…desire? _Lust? ___

Could he feel the same in her? 

No, he must not. Cold. She must radiate cold and banish such…yearning from her mind. 

“Why are you here?” Formal. Demanding. As an Aes Sedai should be.  
He raised an eyebrow, appearing to hear her for the first time. “My apologies, Moiraine Sedai. I had presumed you had requirement of me, from what I felt through the bond. You do want me here.” _Not a question. _Lan studied her face for a moment. His voice was as deep and gruff as always, but also strained somehow. Hoarse. She swallowed. Her throat suddenly felt very dry. Pure heat seethed through the bond, warming her until she thought her blood might boil.__

“I said nothing.” She cocked her head as to scrutinize her lone companion, smoothing her face to keep her internal warmth from showing. Remembering right away, of course, that Lan would most certainly be able to see through her Aes Sedai calm and sense her passions. _Drat the bloody bond._

He quickly closed the distance between them, moving with the deadly grace of the warder he was. She trembled as he slipped the robe off of her shoulders, letting it drop into a heap on the floor. She wasted no time removing his shirt, letting him press her against his feverously warm torso. 

She pulled away from the embrace and moved hands down to work at the belt holding up his trousers. Her normally deft fingers shook as she fumbled at the clasp, frantic mind too anxious to even consider using the One Power. 

Large, callused hands wrapped around hers and pulled them up in front of her face. “Moiraine,” Lan sighed, his breathe hot on her flesh, “Is this really what you want? I must be sure before we do something you may regret. As your warder it is my duty to protect you, even from myself. I will go no further…” Moiraine almost wanted to laugh. The man was flustered! She had never seen Lan so out of balance, so unsure.

She removed her wrists from his grasp and placed a hand on his jaw line. So rough even after shaving. He felt ancient, a relic from another time. She smiled. “I know what I am doing, Lan. I am no child; an Aes Sedai is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. I believe you sensed what I needed. So then, I will submit to _your _will, Warder, just this once…”__

Lan chuckled deeply and then swept Moiraine into his arms, causing her to feel like the rather foolish porcelain doll other Aes Sedai accused her of being. He dropped her gently into the soft, goose feathered bed, allowing her limbs to splay out and open herself to him. She watched as he undid his belt and removed his small clothes, letting them fall the floor in a bundle.

 

Men felt different than women in every way; where Suian was soft and gentle, Lan was hard and rough. Years of swordsmanship and toil had left his body solid and muscular, and had put thick calluses on his hands. When he entered her it was with a vicious, contained fury, like a boulder held at bay by a pebble. She yielded to his touch just as she learned with practice to submit to _Saidar. ___

They came together, the bond intensifying the moment of intimacy between them. He buried his face into her hair and with one last heave whispered fiercely into her ear. “Moiraine!” With just enough self-control, she managed to bite back and swallow the name she was accustomed to calling. Instead she moaned, a sound torn from her mouth by the sudden onslaught of shear pleasure.

 

“Lan?” Moiraine rolled over lazily, searching for her robe. He was already on his feet, collecting discarded clothing from a pile at the foot of the bed. She watched him as he slid into his pants, marvelling at the numerous scares that covered his hard body. Had she known him during the Aiel War, she might have been able to heal a good amount of the wounds while they were fresh. 

She was still in the Tower at the time, though. An Accepted. Then, she would have blushed to even imagine herself sharing a bed with a battle-worn soldier. Much had changed since she was a simple initiate of the Tower, gallivanting and causing mischief with Suian. Oh but the pranks they pulled as silly novices. 

There was little use in fixating on the past, however, as Moiraine had learned in the years now gone. Her life was no longer her own. Instead, she was bound to a young child born on the slopes of Dragon Mount, his tiny fists holding her to fate as strongly as the pattern itself. _Well, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. _She sighed.__

Lan turned to give her privacy, facing the wall as he secured his belt and gathered his shirt. She gasped to see angry red scratches crisscrossing his back. Alerted by her sudden outburst and the alarm flashing through the bond, Lan whirled around with sword already drawn.  
“Moiraine?” He growled, approaching her with his impossibly graceful stride.  
“Your back…the scratches. Did I do that?”  
Lan stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing. Then he sheathed his sword and, surprisingly, let out a low chuckle. Moiraine frowned, taken aback by his amusement. “You are not the first lover to dig her claws into my back. Women have nails like Aiel spears, and are often less forgiving with them.”

Not the first. _I am no lover _, Moraine thought, _and neither are you. Who are we, but soldiers at war? _____

“I will heal you, if you wish it. You know I have some considerable skill with those particular weaves.” 

Lan simply shook his head and again laughed, though this time mirthlessly, as if his thoughts were now far away. Did he think of his first lover so many years ago, whose daughter he had allowed to fall from so great a height? She knew he still blamed himself for each death at the hands of the Black Ajah. No, not her, though his heart would always belong to someone else. Lan’s true lover was death in his unending war with the Shadow, just as Moiraine’s true fate was her own personal crusade. 

_Death lighter than a feather._

She tightened the robe around her torso. “We can never do that again, you know.” It was not a question.

Lan said nothing. Then he nodded slightly, jaw clenched. He understood, of course, that a Blue’s relationship with her warder was one of protection and support, born from necessity. Moiraine was _not _Green Ajah, after all.__

_Duty heavier than a mountain. ___

 

Moiraine awoke in the dark, alone.


End file.
